The Case of Being Videl
by dragonpriestess22
Summary: What if Videl was trained by Tien during the 7 year gap prior to the Buu Saga? A multi-part drabble and side story series.
1. Videl and Hercule

**Chapter 1: Videl and Hercule**

Twelve year old Videl couldn't help but giggle at her father. The champion of the world looked silly, currently psyching himself up for the jump - his grand entrance for the Intergalactic Martial Arts Tournament press junket.

"Where fighters from all corner of the universe compete for the grand prize of 100 million Zenis," the girl reads from the pamphlet in her hand.

"Not to mention getting a once-in-a-lifetime chance for a match with yours truly, the champion of the world, hahaha!" Hercule Satan added, cackling and flashing a V sign at his daughter.

"Just make sure you go easy on them, okay Dad?" Videl said gently. She might slightly cringe at her father's theatrics, but she is really proud that her dad is the strongest and the bravest man in the world, the hero who saved everyone from total annihilation.

"Sure thing, sweetie pie. Just my 10 percent is enough for the yokels and pretenders entering Mr. Cash's tournament. Harharhar!"

"Mr. Satan,"the pilot's voice intoned in through their helmet. "It's time."

Videl took off her helmet and kissed her father's cheek. "Go get them, dad!"

"Pumpkin, sit tight and watch your daddy bring the house down. Boo yeah!"

* * *

 ** _Author's Note:_**

 _Wow, thank you for the warm welcome! This is my first fanfic & hopefully it's not going to be my last, if my notebook which is chock full of story ideas has anything to say about it. :-)_

 _So, I was thinking that it's going to be one chapter per drabble but maybe that's too short, no? I believe Andrey258 thinks so (thanks for the review, by the way!). So I'll try to make the chapters longer (well, from chapter 5 onwards). If not, I'll combine two or three drabbles per chapter._

 _If you don't know it yet, these first few chapters are somewhat based on Bojack Unbound. Later on, it's going to be loosely based on the Saiyaman, World Tournamnent, and Buu Sagas. There are details that are deliberately going to be inconsistent._

 _As always, I don't own DBZ. And please, do read & review!_

 ** _-dragonpriestess22_**


	2. Tien Shinhan at the preliminaries

**Chapter 2: Tien Shinhan at the preliminaries**

The arenas of Battle Island look like a haphazard stack of dinner plates blown up to grand scale. Not to mention that these plates seem to be balanced by a drunk waiter, the way they roll and twist randomly, spilling not food but tournament contestants. The thrown contestants curse and groan, expecting perhaps the square arena of the World Martial Arts Tournament. Some are relieved though, thinking that this intergalactic tournament is way out of their league.

However, a tall bald man, who is usually so stoic and stern looking, is grinning widely. It's been a while, thought Tien Shinhan, as he watched dozens of fighters fall out of the circular stage, which suddenly tilted at a dangerous 45° angle. The bald fighter merely jumped and balanced casually to the top edge of the tilted arena.

After the stressful and tragic androids incident and the Cell games, the Z fighters knew they needed to give themselves some well-deserved fun. Coupled with Future Trunks' surprise but welcomed visit, the gang unanimously decided that joining this tournament is the perfect way to unwind. The 100 million Zeni prize money is something that they also look forward to getting, of course.

But for Tien, the nostalgia that comes from being in a tournament that isn't for once a life-or-death situation (which requires survival instincts, not skill) is what drew him in. He was a World Martial Arts Tournament champion, after all, and he's curious if there are other noteworthy fighters outside of their circle of friends.

The sudden roar of the crowd broke Tien's reverie. He just then realized that he was alone in the arena.


	3. Gohan and Videl

**Chapter 3: Gohan and Videl**

"... And Tien Shinhan advances to the semifinals!" Gohan heard the reporter's announcement, while the widescreen TV screen briefly shows Tien's face.

The 13 years old was sitting in the backstage waiting area. Gohan's semi-finals advancement was the first one announced which is why he's been cooling his heels for a while now. Being used to simple furnishings of his house, the boy finds the room a bit uncomfortable. The air conditioned room is much too cold and the couch way too plush for his liking. Or maybe, Gohan thought, I'm not used to just sitting and doing nothing. Since he was four, everything in his life, everything he do, had a purpose, which are, most often than not, fighting some strong adversary. Even the downtime (the longest he had was the 10 days wait before the Cell Games) had the purpose of giving his body ample rest before the next bout of battles. Like a soldier who had been in the battlefield for far too long, Gohan got the hard-fought peace he longed for but isn't sure how to go on having a civilian life, much less becoming a normal kid, something he had never been.

"I'm probably just thirsty," he said to himself, shrugging. Leaving the waiting area to wander the corridors, he rounded a corner and saw a black-haired girl kicking a vending machine.

"Cough up my soda or give me back my money, you thief!" she yelled, giving the metal cabinet another vicious kick. Gohan saw the problem: a can of soda was tilting from its row, but hadn't dropped all the way down to the vending receptacle.

The girl raised her leg for another kick when Gohan said, "'Hey, wait. Let me see if I can budge it somehow."

The girl glanced around and saw a kid at the corner, who seems to be around her age. Nice hair, Videl thought randomly, looking at his wild spiky hair. She shrugged but moved out of the way. Gohan walked in front of the machine, positioning himself so that he'll block the girl's view.

''Hmm, let's see now..." Gohan placed a finger on the glass in front of the stuck soda can and released a minuscule ki wave. The can suddenly righted itself and finally dropped to the receptacle.

The girl's jaw dropped. "How did you-"

She saw him merely touch the glass, not shake the machine or anything, but somehow that's enough to move the soda can. Maybe he just tapped the glass and that was enough to shift the can which was about to drop anyway? She shrugged and took the drink.

"Thanks. Would you like something too? My treat," Videl added quickly.

Gohan grinned sheepishly, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. "Thank you! Um, maybe an energy drink?"

"Sure. That one okay?" pointing to a bottle. The boy nodded. Videl inserted a bill, punched a button, and handed Gohan his drink. He took a long swig of the cold beverage.

"Whew! I needed that. Thanks! By the way, I'm-"

"There you are, miss!"

A harried looking guy was barreling down the corridor towards the teenagers.

"Your dad has been looking for you! The next batch of interviews are about to begin in a few minutes. You're one of the panels right? Let's go!" He grabbed her wrist and dragged her unceremoniously away. Videl had no choice but to just wave and give a goodbye smile at the boy.

"See you around! Thanks again!"

"Bye!" Gohan said, raising his hand in a wave too. But the girl had already turned into the corner and disappeared from his sight.


	4. Smoke and Mirrors

**Chapter 4: Smoke and Mirrors**

"Sheesh, you could've waited until the guy finished telling me his name, you know," an annoyed Videl said.

"But Ms. Satan," the harried man whined, "the producer said he's going to fire me if I didn't bring you to the interview room in five minutes. Please understand, miss."

Videl and the assistant arrived at some sort of studio. She could see a nook where a set of sofas, tables, and ferns are tastefully arranged. In front of the fake living room, there are multiple large cameras, lights and some other TV equipments, manned by at least a dozen personnel.

"Yeah fine, whatever," the girl said with a huff. "I'm just going to give my expert opinion on the eight semi-finalists and their chances against my dad, is that right? But we all know the answer to that is a big fat zero."

"I know, I know. We still need to create excitement on the other contestants. Our sponsors are live checking the ratings pretty closely, you see."

The producer, who had been listening to their conversation, butted in.

"That's where you come in, Ms. Videl. Mr. Satan mentioned you're some kind of martial arts nerd. Maybe you have some info about the eight semi-finalists? I heard some of them fought in past World Martial Arts tournaments. Just give some spicy background stuff, enough to make our viewers believe that they have some sort of fighting chance against the champ."

"Oh, there you are, Videl sweetheart," a frazzled Mr. Satan approached them from the vicinity of the complementary buffet table. "Mr. Producer here want some expert opinion on the semi-final bouts. I'd like to do it, of course, but the problem is, Mr. Cash wants me to join him in the command center upstairs. Please be a darling and help your old man out, okay?"

The girl frowned slightly. "Are yor alright, dad? You're sweating buckets." What's making him so nervous?

"Of course, sweetie!" he said loudly, while wiping his forehead with an already damp handkerchief." It's this running back and forth, interview here, wave to the crowds there. Then socialize with Mr. Cash and his family in between. Your dad is a busy man today, ahahaha!"

But then Videl saw his eyes grazed on a large TV screen with the head shot pictures of Gohan, Tien Shinhan, Piccolo, Trunks, and Krillin. She heard her dad made some sort of strangled sound, making her look at the screen closely. _Hey, isn't that the boy...? Naah, it can't be. That kid looked too harmless to be a fighter…_

Before Videl can ponder any further, she felt the producer tap her shoulders. With a large grin, he guided Videl into one of the sofa. She looked around to find her father and saw him backing to an open lift and giving her an ok sign.

''Thanks for helping me out, honey! Mwah!" Mr. Satan sent a flying kiss to his resigned daughter.

The girl knew she had no choice. Her dad's media commitment must be fulfilled or else those same media is going to tear out her dad. She knew that a lot of her dad's new business ventures rely on his stellar reputation and the public's goodwill.

Young as she is, she knew, they needed the money. For her mom's sake.

Putting a smile to signal her acquiesce, she accepts the handshake from the other panelist, a beefy red-faced man with a receding hairline. Rounding off their trio is the tournament main announcer. In front of them, the director signals - 3, 2, 1, and 0.

"Welcome back folks, to the Intergalactic Martial Arts tournament! As always, I'm your host, S. P. Kerr. While they are preparing the arenas for the semi-finals round, let me introduce you to our commentary panel.

On my right is no stranger for those who had watched the last World Martial Arts Tournament. It was a such a narrow final match between our panelist and our beloved Mr. Satan, wouldn't you agree, folks?" The burly man on his side nods vigorously. "The second strongest man in the world and the master of the Rolling Panda School of Martial Arts, I give you Master Din Tai Fung!" The TV crew clapped warmly.

"On my left is a young lady substituting for her father, who in turn is currently at the command center helping Mr. X. S. Cash with last minute tournament preparations. Totally obliterating all her competitors, she had quickly gained the World Martial Arts Tournament Junior Division championship belt. The top student at her dad's dojo at the very young age of twelve, all pundits had placed her as the number one rising star of the martial arts world. Folks, give a warm welcome to Ms. Videl Satan!" The crew, now joined by more than a dozen of the defeated contestants (who conveniently lost their way out of the backstage area), again clapped enthusiastically.

The director then gives a thumb up signal to the announcer.

"I believe the first semifinal bout is about to begin in a few minutes. First up, it's the match between -" Mr. Kerr reads his notes,"- Tien Shinhan and... huh, no last name, I wonder why?... a guy named Trunks!"

Master Fung snorts derisively. "A couple of amateur no names."

"I beg to differ, Master Fung," Videl asserts calmly. "Mr. Tien Shinhan was a former champion. He won at the twenty-second World Martial Arts Tournament."

Mr. Kerr nods vigorously. "That is interesting. Mr. Shinhan might be a formidable one, someone we should watch out for. What about his opponent, the young man, Trunks?"

Videl narrows her eyes, scrutinizing the lavender haired guy more closely. "Hmm, I don't think I know him."

Master Fung snorts again."Let me correct myself. An amateur no name, and an old has-been."

Before the girl can give her response, a chime rang and the director pointed to a widescreen screen in front of them. She saw a handsome guy with light purple hair (he looked like one of those idols in Erasa's teenybopper magazines, Videl thought) casually talking to a heavily muscled bald man who was doing some final stretches.

"The way they regard each other, I wonder if they're friends?" Videl didn't realize she mused aloud until she saw Mr. Kerr shrugged.

"The bout between Tien Shinhan and Trunks is about to begin in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!" Mr. Kerr exclaimed. And with that, the match bell rang.

Mr. Kerr's statement was the last one heard in the studio in the next few minutes. The panel can barely see the fighters' movements, let alone give comments about them. But when the two took off to the air, everyone's jaws simply dropped, from those in front of the camera, to those behind it.

"Tri beam, Ha!" Tien Shinhan shouted and a large white blast swifly barraged its way to the purple haired youth. The younger man dodged and the blast hit a cliff instead, blowing the humongous rock to smithereens.

With a laugh and a smirk, the young man powered up. A blinding yellow aura enveloped the teen and astonishingly, his limp purple hair turned to yellow spikes and his blue eyes into green.

Videl wished her dad was there. She'd like to ask if he knew this fellow. Because this Trunks looks like the blonde guy from the Cell games. Okay, so maybe that man was a bit bulkier and older, but the hair and the eyes? Totally him.

Mr. Kerr shook himself and saw the director signaling him to say something. He cleared his throat. "Master Fung." The big man didn't respond, his bulging eyes still glued to the screen. "Master Fung!"

''Huh?"

''Er, care to comment about what's happening in the match? Any idea why the two are floating in the air like that? How about the lights?"

"That's easy. They've using wires. As for the lights, why those are merely pyrotechnics and special bulbs. Smoke and mirrors, as my esteemed rival Mr. Satan would say. Those two probably arranged this stuff to hype up their match. Isn't that right, Ms. Videl?''

"Uh huh," the distracted girl agreed. That seemed like the most logical explanation. But to be honest, Videl isn't entirely convinced.

Tien Shinhan sent another energy blast to the young man. Amazingly, the teen merely punches the attack away, dissipating it into smoke. Trunks seemingly vanishes, which took the bald warrior by surprise. This gave the blond-haired youth the chance to quickly get behind Tien. He then chops the older warrior on the neck, sending him careening to the sea.

"Trunks wins the match!" the announcer shouts, and the crowd outside roars in appreciation. "He advances to the finals!

The next match will be Doskoi versus Sky Dragon. But first, some words from our sponsors."

The large screen in their front then cut to a commercial break. The director took these few minutes to scold the panel for their lackluster performance. But Videl barely noticed the ranting man.

That last match reminded her so much of matches from the previous World Martial Arts Tournaments, the ones she avidly read in books and watched from archived footages at the Orange Star Public Library. They were so different from the one that she and her dad participated last year. Those matches looked vastly more exciting and dangerous. Videl wondered why those old fighters didn't join up in the last World Martial Arts Tournament. Maybe those old fighters found the twenty fourth tournament too tame? Or maybe they thought that the contestants who joined were so below their skills that they refused to join?

There's only one way to find out, Videl told herself. That is, to finish this damn interview and ask Mr. Tien Shihan himself.


	5. Conversations

**Chapter 5: Conversations**

Tien found them in the concessionaires' area.

If he was like them, he'll acknowledge that it's a strategic location. It was near a takoyaki stand so they won't get hungry or thirsty. But most importantly, it's near the stairs to the upper level of the audience seats. A small but well timed ki wave disguised as a sudden gust of wind will send girls' skirts up for the viewing pleasure of a lecherous old man, and a lewd talking pig. The old man's former student was the only one watching the match currently showing in the humongous widescreen TV high up the concessionaires' area - it was Gohan versus some gigantic moustached fighter. Yamcha looked bored though, and discreetly glanced up with the old man and the pig when a deliberate rush of air hiked a blonde girl's skirt up. Tien made a sound halfway between a snort of disgust and an amused laugh.

''Hey Tien," Yamcha greeted the tall bald man. "Sucks to get matched with Trunks, but that man, that was a great fight! You should have seen the opened months from the people here, and they weren't even eating." Yamcha chuckled. Roshi nodded vigorously and Oolong grinned and a thumbs up.

Tien smiled. "Yeah well, I still lost. But thanks."

"Gohan wins! He moves on to the finals!" the announcer blared. "The next and last semifinals match is between Krillin and Ma Junior." This caught the Z fighters' attention. The screen showed a nervous looking short bald guy and a tall scowling green man.

"Piccolo looks annoyed," Oolong observed.

"Piccolo always looks annoyed," Tien answered.

"Well, he looks more annoyed than usual."

"Probably because he wasn't matched with either Trunks or Gohan," Roshi surmised. "Unless Krillin gives him a good fight, he's probably thinking this is all just a waste of time."

"Sheesh, if he weren't so green, I could've sworn he's a saiyan," Yamcha said.

"While we wait for the go signal from the referees, we'll now go to our panelists for their thoughts." The view on the screen now showed a studio set with three people siting on sofas. "Master Fung, your thoughts on the last three semifinal bouts?"

The beefy man puts a finger on his chin and scratched thoughtfully. "They were fairly decent matches, sure, but I've seen better ones. The first one was okay but relied too much on gimmickry. Flying and energy blasts are overly dramatic, don't you think? The second fight was so much better. Sky Dragon has decent martial arts skills. I'll single out the new one - I believe he calls it, hmm, the afterimage technique - is quite innovative. But in the end, strength trumps technique. And Doskoi had spades of strength." Master Fung, his arms crossed, slides back on the sofa.

"Master Fung, how about the last one. Between this boy," Mr. Kerr checks his notes, "Son Gohan and the brawler Bruno. That was such an upset, don't you think?"

"That was not a match. That was a terrible blunder by Bruno," Master Fung scoffed. "Didn't you see? The big guy tripped on his own feet. What poor body coordination! The bigger they are, the harder they fall, and all of that."

Mr. Kerr blinked. "I see."

The announcer cleared his throat and then shifted his attention to Videl.

"Ms. Videl, with your vast knowledge of tournament history, do you have any information you can share about the next two fighters?"

"A bit," the black haired girl replied. "They were contestants in previous World Martial Arts tournaments. The small man, Krillin, had been a consistent finalist from the twenty first up to the twenty third tournaments. Ma Junior, on the other hand, was in the final match at the twenty third tournament. He lost, of course, to the champion at that time, Son Goku." Videl paused. _Wait a minute, didn't Mr. Kerr say that the kid's name was Son Gohan? I wonder if he's related to Son Goku..._

"I don't know about you, Ms. Videl, but there's something about Mr. Junior that's awfully familiar. I can't put my finger on it though..."

"Really?" The girl studied the image in the screen more closely. "Sorry, nothing registers in my mind. Whatever it is, it must be non-tournament related. Or maybe it happened before I was born, and you're just too old, Mr. Kerr," Videl teased.

At the concessionaires' area, the Z fighters chuckled.

"Cheeky girl," Roshi said. "If she were a bit older, I would date her."

Laughter quickly died around the table, and the rest of the gang stared at Roshi, aghast.

"I said if she were a bit older! I'm not that disgusting, jeez!"

"Besides, the thing I like about her is that she knows a lot about tournament history,"Roshi continued, trying to salvage what little left of his dignity. "That shows respect not only of the art of fighting but also to what came before."

"Translation, you just want to know if the kids nowadays remember that old geezer, the turtle hermit Master Roshi,"Oolong said, giving the old man a smirk.

The fighters gave another round of laugher.

"Ok fine, I'll admit that," the hermit said, cackling.

"Who is she, anyway?" Tien asked.

Oolong smirked. "Can you believe, she's Videl Satan. The daughter of the one, the only, champion of the World, Hercule Satan! Boo yeah!"

"No way!" Yamcha was flabbergasted. "Aside from the color of the hair and eyes, she looks nothing like her old man, lucky her."

"The announcer guy also said she won the kid's division in the last world tournament. Which doesn't prove anything, really."

Tien looked at the slip of a girl, who Iooked frail looking compared to the burly men beside her. The warrior, by habit and by training, knew not to judge strength by appearances, but he does agree with the pig. There doesn't seem to be anything special about this Videl Satan.

''Oh, I think the last match's about to start," Yamcha said, as the view on the screen shifted back to the arena and to their two friends. Piccolo was still scowling and Krillin still looked nervous.

"Hey guys, you want to know something juicy?" Oolong said conspirationally. "Our man, Krillin would probably claim he joined for pride and glory, but let me tell you, he's in for the sweet zenis. 'Cause he need the cash to keep his girlfriend!" Except for raised eyebrows, no one reacted to his supposed bomb of a news, so the pig continued.

"I noticed just the other day that our short friend there keeps having appointments to the mainland practically everyday. You'll say, so what, right? Well, just the other day, I woke up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water, and boom, I see the Krill-dog sneaking upstairs to his room, smelling like women's perfume, and lipstick on his cheeks!"

Tien rolled his eyes and tuned out the conversation.

Videl took off the second the director said that they're done. Trying to anyway, as people keep trying to get her attention.

"Hey girlie," Master Fung slid his arm on her shoulders. "Mr. Kerr and I are going to join your dad and Mr. Cash upstairs. Let's go."

Videl pasted on a fake smile while she removed Master Fung's arm. "Maybe later, sir. I need to go somewhere else first. Could you tell dad I'll see him later? Thanks!"

"Ms. Videl! You were great!"

"A drink, Ms. Videl? Or maybe something to eat?"

"Ms. Videl, can I get your autograph?"

''Hey Videl, you're so cute! Can I show you some moves? Martial art moves, of course."

Waving them off, she quickly escaped. Ducking to a less crowded corridor, she weaved left and right the maze-like passageways, until she found herself outside. She narrowed her eyes to ward off some of the sunlight's assault. The girl then breathe in the fresh air she didn't realize she'd been wanting so badly, having been cooped up inside the main building since arriving at the Battle Island this morning.

Despite the difference of decors, the lack of coconut palms, and orange robed monks, the girl can almost imagine that she's at a World Martial Arts tournament. The first and only time had been last year. Her dad said that last year's tournament was bigger and better than all the previous versions combined. She also heard when he muttered to himself that it's safer too.

She couldn't actually compare, of course, as she was born after the twenty third world tournament. And they've allowed video recording of the matches only last year. But judging from the pictures in the books and the rare and very short archival footages, she thought the tournaments were more intimate and serious, with the strict preliminary round, and a smaller stage. Not to mention that there was only one division, a contest with no age limit. A tournament where an adult can legally beat up a kid to an inch of her life.

Videl wondered, with that kind of competition, will she even have a fighting chance?

The delicious smell of umami and the answering rumbles of her stomach told her that there are food stalls nearby. She skipped happily down the stairs and went to the nearest one, a takoyaki stand. Luckily, there was only one customer, a scar faced guy in an orange gi. Videl bought a batch of six and a can of juice. But when she turned around, she saw that the dining area was packed, and all tables were occupied.

''Hey, kid," the scar faced nudged her, noticing her frown. "If you don't mind sharing a table with a bunch of dudes, we have a free seat at our table. Don't worry, we're harmless, and we'll be leaving in a few, anyway."

Videl hesitated for a bit and then shrugged. They were in an open space with lots of security personnel roaming around. And besides, she knew how to defend herself. That's the whole point of martial arts training, right?

Three steps from the takoyaki stand, the girl found herself in front of an old man, a pig, and -

"Hey, wait a minute, you're Tien Shinhan!"

Roshi laughed. "Would you look at that, Tien. You have a fan."

Oolong narrowed his eyes. Then they became round as saucers. "Guys, it's that girl!"

"Girl? Which girl?" This kid is too young to be one of those ladies in his favorite exercise show, Roshi thought.

"You know, that Satan girl, Videl!"

"The one we were talking about earlier?" Tien asked.

"You were talking about me?"

Yamcha laughed, scratching his hand on the back of his neck. "Nothing to worry about, Videl. After all, you were on that TV," pointing to the wide screen on the wall above them, "Just an hour ago, right?"

Videl nodded slowly."Oh, right. And I know Mr. Tien Shinhan because, among other things, I was a panelist during his match. Which, by the way, was awesome," the girl said shyly at the bald man.

"Thanks," Tien answered with a smile.

"Just call him Tien," the scar faced guy said. "This is Oolong, the old man is Master Roshi, and my name's Yamcha."

"Hello, I'm Videl," the girl said, bowing. "Nice to meet all of you."

"Likewise," the old man replied. "And I'm guessing that 'among other things' mean you being a martial arts tournament afficionado."

Videl blushed. "Well, yeah."

Oolong gave the turtle hermit a side eye. "Let's cut to the chase. What the old man wants to know is if you read him, being a martial arts nerd and all of that."

Roshi coughed and gave the pig a glare (he didn't deny it though).

"Well, the only Roshi I remember is someone called Muten Roshi from an old list of past winners. It said that he's the grandfather or something of Jackie Chun, the winner of the twenty first tournament. Hmm, I wonder what happened to that guy?"

"Grandfather? We have the same age! No, young lady, he's my cousin," the peeved hermit said. Tien snorted, while Yamcha scratched his cheeks, trying to stifle a laugh.

"Oh sorry, my mistake."

"Don't worry about it, kid," the pig waved a hand. "I have it on good authority that Jackie Chun is now a senile old man whose favorite hobbies are reading dirty magazines and watching women in leotards exercise."

"Huh?" Videl exclaimed, clueless as to why Tien and Yamcha laughed wholeheartedly while a ticked off Master Roshi placed the pig on a headlock and proceeded to give him vicious head bumps.


	6. Pandemonium

**Chapter 4: Pandemonium**

"I hope Videl can find her way back here," Oolong said, craning his almost non-existent neck left and right. "She should've bought her ice cream when we where at that place with the food stalls."

"Naah, don't worry about the girl. I'm sure she got the row and seat numbers. Besides, you asked her to buy you popcorns too, right?"

Master Roshi can barely hear the pig over the noise created by more than a thousand excited spectators. Leaving Tien and Yamcha at the concessionaires' area, Master Roshi, Oolong, and their new friend Videl decided to watch and support the finalists' sendoff at the larger Battle Island 2 arena.

"The entire arena reverberated with the tournament host's voice. "The stage has been set for the finals on Battle Island 2! Where our four remaining warriors will compete for the coveted spot in the show down against Mr. Satan!"

As the lift raised Gohan up the stage, he distinctly heard Chichi's voice above the din of the tremendous crowd. "Gohan! I love you, sweetie!"

"Mom, not so loud," the pre-teen complained, blushing furiously.

"You have this, Trunks! Get them! And then we can go on vacation!" Bulma cheerfully yelled to her son's teenage doppelganger, while her actual baby looked at her with confusion.

"Tactful as always, mother," the teenaged Trunks thought, his cheeks as red as Gohan's.

"Krillin! Don't get yourself killed!" Oolong shouted to his bald friend encouragingly.

"Oh, I'll survive. Then it's bacon time," Krillin thought, cheeks quite red, in his mind's eye strangling a certain obnoxious pig.

While the host was describing the tournament rules, Videl nimbly squeezed her way beside the pig.

"So, what I'd miss?" the blue-eyed girl asked Oolong while handing him a bag of popcorn. Meanwhile, Master Roshi was nodding his head, trying to fight a snooze.

"Nothing much, the announcer guy just introduced our friends," the pig said, munching.

"Friends? You know all of them?"

"Not the sumo wrestler. But the other three? Oh, I have stories you won't believe! Like that time-"

"Oolong..." the old hermit warned the blabber mouth. Videl might be a nice girl, but the two barely know her. The Z fighters are, and will always be, people who keep their secrets within their tight knit group.

"No, no, it's okay," the young woman said sheepishly.

"Oh right. Sorry Videl, I ought to keep my mouth shut. The gang's like the mafia, you see. You need to be part of the family to know all the juicy details. Oh hey, I know! You can marry the kid. He's almost your age, and you can be like his promised bride or something, just like when Go- Yeoww!"

Exasperated, Roshi's fist collided violently with Oolong's skull. Sweatdropping, Videl laughed politely, thinking that it's wiser just to ignore the pig's confusing words.

* * *

In a dimly lit room at the neglected basement of the command building, seven men were huddled around a table. The table was littered with floor plans. A heavily muscled man was currently tracing paths to his colleagues.

"...countdown, and they'll be off. When that happens, you two," nodding at a pair of guys on his left, "must find yourselves in the camera room. Kill the cameras in the top two levels, and the connecting elevators and stairs. There's probably a few guards there, which shouldn't be a problem, right?" the two men smirked.

"After these two give the go signal, you three," looking at men on his right, "use these stairways," pointing to another floor plan. Split up at level 34A. You two secure and isolate the hallways and entrance points, and you, secure and isolate the helipad." The three gave thumbs ups.

The leader chuckled. "As for our targets, Mr. Anderson and I," patting an even larger guy in the shoulder, "will take care of them ourselves."

* * *

"This way," Videl pointed at an elevator.

The turtle hermit adjusted his sunglasses and harrumphed. "I'm all for free food and booze but are you sure it's okay for us to join that penthouse shindig? Those are the rich and famous, and we're not. We'll probably get kicked out in seconds."

"You guys are with me, and that should be enough for the security bozos. Besides, the Cash family practically worships my dad's footsteps. They won't mind that I've invited a couple of friends."

"I still don't know..."

"Leave this to me," Oolong winked at the black-haired girl. He moseyed to the hermit.

"Think, old man. What does rich peoples' parties have a lot? Aside from free food and booze, of course."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure you're going to tell me anyway."

"Ladies. Hot, rich ladies. Hot, rich, and drunk ladies." the pig suggestively raised his eyebrows.

Roshi ran to the elevator and tapped his. foot impatiently. "On the double, people! Those ladies need my loving attention!"

With his hands on the back of his head, the pig grinned and walked to the elevator.

"Um wait, I-I think I changed my mind, ahahaha," the girl laughed nervously. "You guys won't enjoy that party. Those people are such a bore, anyway."

"Too late to change the plans, Videl," Oolong said. "I just said the magic word. Now the old man will move heaven and earth to get to that party - hey, watch it, bud!"

Two darkly clothed muscles roughly elbowed their way into the elevator as the door was about to close. Ignoring the incensed pig with a stomped foot, the two hogged (pun intended) most of the elevator space. Realizing that the three were also on their way to the penthouse, the men eyed them.

"You're Mr. Satan's daughter, aren't you?" the smaller one (only by a bit) asked the girl.

"What's it to you?" Videl was wary.

"Oh, nothing," the man replied, smirking. Videl noted the larger man moved to the back of the small space, behind the suddenly nervous pig and now serious hermit.

The elevator pinged open, and everyone moved out. There were men in similar uniforms lounging in the hallway, one of them notably near the emergency stairwell.

As they stood in front of the gilded door, the penthouse suite swished open automatically, showing laughing, chattering people. Waiters were moving around with drinks or food. On a platform, a grand piano stood and a tuxedoed man was playing some soft watered-down jazz music.

"Videl!" Mrs. Cash exclaimed with open arms. The socialite hugged the young woman and showered her with air kisses. ''I'm glad you're here, my dear. Your father hadn't been feeling so well since this morning! I feel bad for the dear man, but he had been cooped up in the toilet since the semi-finals." The svelte lady pouted.

"Indeed, indeed," Mr. Cash joined his wife. "Our friends and sponsors wanted to talk business but with his terrible case of stomach flu? Talk about missed opportunities. Tsk, tsk."

"Um, okay. I'm sure he when feels better, he'll be here soon."

Just then, Videl noticed some a group of people whispering. Mrs. Cash gasped. "My word! Are those your friends?"

The girl groaned when she saw Oolong pigging out (pun intended yet again) at the buffet table, and old Roshi harassing a group of debutantes.

"Friends are such strong words. Can we use acquaintances instead?" the black haired young woman mumbled, her face red with embarrassment.

Mr. Cash started to retort, when they hear fear-filled commotion from the arena below.

"What in blue blazes is going on?" he yelled at the tournament producer from across the room.

The producer, who was by then enjoying his fourth (or was that fifth?) tequila sunrise, jumped out of his seat, in alarm to Mr. Cash's bellow. He paled further as he listened to his earpiece, the voices from his panicking assistants continued to flow.

"...not the actors we hired..."

"... attacked the contestant Krillin!"

"...is still in the toilet..."

''...is dead! I repeat, Doskoi is dead!"

The man paled at the last report. "M-Mr. Cash! Ah, there seems to be some, er, significant changes to the uh, program," the man said, wiping copious amount of sweat from his forehead. "Ah, some troublemakers trying to mess with the finalists. N-nothing that the champ can't handle, aheheh- AHHH!"

The loud ratatat from an automatic rifle had the party guests screaming and ducking for cover.

"Listen up, people!"

It was those men in the elevator. The rifle was still smoking in the hands of the smaller man who was obviously the ringleader.

"If it's still isn't obvious, this is a robbery! My colleague here," pointing to a humungous man with a sack, "will be going around the room. You will put in your cash and jewelry in the bag quietly and quickly. Be stubborn and my friend have to straighten you out, literally." They both chucked.

Videl's body moved forward by instinct, her first tightening in preparation.

"Don't do it, Videl," the girl heard Master Roshi whispered behind her. _How did he get there? How did he know what she was planning?_

"But I can't just stand here and do nothing," she muttered back.

''A disciplined warrior will not let impatience be her guide. She will only strike at the right moment, whether she created such opportunity for herself."

"No talking!" the ringleader with the rifle strode to them. "Down on your knees! And raise your arms up!"

The old man chuckled.

"Just relax, my boy. Sure thing, I can do that, just give me a few seconds to exercise these stubborn old knees," the turtle hermit said, stretching out his legs slowly, "one, two, one, two..."

With startling swiftness, Master Roshi swept the man's legs out. As he went down, the goon automatically pulled the gun's trigger, releasing a torrent of bullets. The captives screamed. The hermit then raised his cane upwards, forcefully shoving the hard wood under the thug's chin, knocking him out completely.

''Hey!" the goon's larger companion threw a beefy fist towards the old man - which Videl caught in her small hands.

"Oh no, you don't!" the girl exclaimed. With a strength she didn't knew she had, she lifted the gigantic goon over her head in a suplex. The giant went down, and then stayed down.

The turtle hermit raised an eyebrow, mildly impressed.

"What's going on?! What the fu-"

It was the two henchmen in the hallway who barged in. And they just saw a slip of a girl smashed their colossal cohort to unconsciousness.

You bitch!" One of the goons yelled furiously as he tried to shoot the girl down.

Videl moved towards the gunman. She was surprisingly able to dodge the first bullet but the second one grazed her cheek. The thug was so surprised with her speed that he hesitated for a fraction of a second. Which is what all Videl needed to land a vicious roundhouse kick to the hoodlum's head. The man collapsed to the floor in an instant.

The last thug saw that he was the only one in their group left standing. Security personnel then filed into the suite to belatedly take control of the situation. His knees knocking, he raised his arms.

"I-I give up!" he yelled, throwing his gun away. The armed guards placed him on handcuffs and led him away.

"That ended well," Oolong said drolly as he and the turtle hermit sauntered to the black-haired girl.

"So, says the pig who hid under the buffet table the entire time," the old man said with a snort.

He then looked back at Videl and said, "Sit down, girl. Your cheeks are bleeding."

"Oh." Her legs suddenly became wobbly, and she sat to the nearest chair.

The old man asked a medic from the security team for some cotton, adhesive strips, and a small bottle of iodine solution. He then tended the girl's wound, while he clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"Of all the reckless, idiotic things to do! Do you have a death wish? Or are you just plain stupid?"

"I'm sorry," the girl hung her head in shame.

"Hmmm, but still..." he mused while dabbing some antiseptic and slapping some strips on the wincing girl's cheek. The hermit became quiet.

"Viddeeellll!" Mrs. Cash suddenly appeared in front of them and tightly hugged the startled girl.

"I saw the entire thing, Videl! You were so brave! Your daddy would be sooo proud!" Mrs. Cash gushed as she tightly hugged the blushing young woman. Beside her, Mr. Cash beamed. In a few minutes, Videl found herself surrounded by photographers, reporters, and admirers. Master Roshi and Oolong were elbowed out of the tight circle of clamoring people.

The pig shrugged. "So that's it, old man. Let's go back to the arena. I'm sure there are more exciting things happening there." But the turtle hermit didn't answer.

"Earth to Master Roshi. Come in, Roshi." Oolong nudged the old man.

"Oh, the arena? Sure." Then the hermit continued thoughtfully. "There is something noteworthy about that girl. Something unexpected. It needs to be properly cultivated though. I wonder..." And then the old teacher became lost in his thoughts again.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Sorry for the delay. As much as I wanted to finished this chapter, I needed to prep up for a sideline project that I needed to present last weekend. So yeah, basically just some time-demanding work stuff. I already detail-outlined a couple more chapters so I'm crossing my fingers I can finish at least one this week despite needing to do __some school stuff too._

 _Another thing, would it be okay if I post new fanfics while this one is ongoing? I have this story idea in my mind, and it's refusing to go away. I'm guessing that it wants me to write it down and publish it so that it'll stop bugging me. I'm still going to post new chapters here at least once (or twice, hopefully) a week._

 _Also, please check out the story Burden of Lies by zfj. I don't know the author personally but I remember reading the first chapter a month or so ago and it made an impression on me that I unconsciously (I swear!) and shamelessly copied the basic premise._

 _By the way, is my pace too slow? Do you think I better quicken things up? Please do send me your thoughts, I welcome all of them. Thank you in advance!_

 _Lastly, thank you for your reviews, NoFacedKhalessi and Andrey258. I really appreciate them. :-)_

 _\- Always, dragonpriestess22_


	7. Visiting Hours

**Chapter 7: Visiting Hours**

Days after, pundits still don't know if they've going to call the Intergalactic Martial Arts Tournament a success or a failure. For one, there's no winner, not technically. None of the finalists got to survive the final round to fight Mr. Satan one-on-one. But what the traditionalists hated about the entire thing was that someone had actually died. Tragic not only because of the life lost, but also it is such a sacrilege, an anti-thesis to what martial arts is all about, which is the protection of life. The original World Martial Arts Tournament wouldn't allow such thing to happen, these pundits say, just for the sake of extra viewers & sponsors.

And these same viewers & sponsors were the reason why some people call it a success. It was most watched live event of the year. Sponsors were happy, and plenty of these same sponsors' products were sold. It made the Cash family a few billion zeni richer (minus all the payments he need to do, mostly to the grieving family of the poor departed Doskoi).

Despite how lucrative the entire event had been, Mr. Cash decided once is enough. He had suffered far too much, first from the attempted robbery, then the hijacking of the final round by some terrorists with cyan skin and orange hair. Doctors warned him that his ulcers will burst if he subjects himself to such high levels of stress again. It's an event for the record book, and he swore that there will never be another Intergalactic Martial Arts tournament ever again.

After the dust settled, chaos sorted out, people calmed down, villains apprehended, and bodies carted away, the remaining and unconscious finalists were rushed to the emergency ward of the Battle Island Hospital. If Trunks, Gohan, and Krillin were awake, they would have just fly home to crunch on senzu beans. Or perhaps fly to the Lookout, where the young new guardian can heal them, good as new. But they were not, and the three fighters woke and found themselves a few hours later tied to winches and bandaged from head to foot like mummies.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The nurses of the Battle Island Hospital were unnerved by the laughter reverberating throughout the intensive care ward. Not that is was an unpleasant sound. It was simply a rare thing to hear in the usually somber location. But the patients and visitors in Room 418 seem to be having a blast. That's despite that the three patients there (and disturbingly, two of which are under aged) having multiple broken bones, skull fractures, and various blunt force trauma, including contusions, abrasions, and lacerations.

The nurses thought, maybe it's because these professional fighters (and disturbingly, including the two which are under aged), are so used to extreme pain? Still, they didn't see what's there to be happy about, considering (based on the seriousness of their injuries) the lengthy hospital stay they have to endure, and the amount of physical therapy they have to undergo after discharge.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Surly Yajirobe told them a day before that Korin didn't have any senzu beans on hand, and they must wait for, pfft, I dunno, about three days for the next harvest. The injured fighters were okay with waiting. Three days of bed rest was a respite for them. The mothers, Chichi and Bulma, have something to say to that though. As for the other fighters and friends visiting Gohan, Trunks, and Krillin (Tien, Chaotzu, Oolong, Piccolo, Yamcha, Master Roshi, and Vegeta, who the bluenette reported was brooding on the rooftop), they were just glad it wasn't them wearing the bandages.

"So, what about asking Dende to heal you guys?" Bulma asked. To actually know that there is a God (more than one actually), and that he is literally a good friend of yours? People might say the Z fighters lead privileged lives.

Piccolo snorted. "The guardian of the Earth is busy. Plus, are you really asking Kami do house calls?"

"Weeelll... yes?"

"There goes a rich spoiled brat's answer. How typical." The aforementioned rich spoiled brat went red with outrage. Not that it matters. The Namekian was there just to check on Gohan. That done, Piccolo flew out of the window to escape both Bulma's wrath and the gang's inane chatter.

"I'm neither spoiled nor a brat. Asshole..." the woman angrily muttered to herself.

"Don't worry, mother," teenaged Trunks said soothingly. "Between the androids, Cell, and those aliens, staying put in a hospital is practically a holiday."

"But this is your goodbye visit. We wouldn't know when we'll see you again." The heiress sadly smoothened the soft hair of gurgling baby on her lap. "I booked a tropical vacation for us three too. A mom and her two beautiful sons." She sighed.

"Aw, I'm so sorry," the lavender haired boy said guiltily.

"Don't worry about it, Trunks. It wasn't your fault, after all." Bulma scrunched her face in thought. "Oh, I know! I'll put up a huge going away party! I'll invite everyone! And there's going to be dancing and games and fireworks, and oh, tons and tons of food!" She handed her baby to Chichi and then grabbed her phone.

"Mother," Trunks sweat dropped. ''You don't really need to. But if you really want to have a party, maybe a smaller one is better...?"

"You're such a sweet boy," the young mother pinched the teenager on his cheek. "Worrying about me and everything. But as your other mother, I want to make sure you'll get the very best. If you can't get the very best vacation, then you'll have the largest, most awesome party that the Briefs money can buy." With that, she excused herself to call her assistant.

''Hold on to your horses, guys," Yamcha said, laughing. "We're in for a patented Bulma Briefs bash."

"Well, I'm sure it's way better than the last shindig I went," Oolong replied. "Now that was a disaster, if I ever saw one." The turtle hermit and the pig already told them about Videl and what happened at that penthouse party.

"Strange though that the robbery you guys were talking about wasn't in the news," said Krillin, flipping the pages of a newspaper. The headline screamed "Mr. Satan Saves World, Twice". Underneath it is a picture of said savior of the world with Mr. Cash's son, Monty. Both were grinning widely, their fingers in a V.

"That the rich and famous were held hostage and were almost robbed? That should've made the front page," the short warrior added.

"I'd say that would probably be the reason why it they didn't report it," Tien said. "The scoop that sponsors and investors were held at gunpoint would probably crash Mr. Cash's businesses and stocks to the ground even more than the news of orange haired alien freaks hijacking the tournament."

Everyone agreed. After the Cell games, the gang realized that people tend to dismiss feats of superhuman strengths and abilities readily as fake or trivial. They would rather dwell on the more 'believable' information such as the world champion defeating a green monster full of cheap tricks. Or that a group of thugs planned the entire disturbance during the tournament as diversion for their penthouse heist.

"So Mr. Satan has a daughter, " Chichi said thoughtfully, changing the topic while bouncing the giggling baby on her lap.

Gohan suddenly remembered the girl in the hallway, the one who bought him a drink. He couldn't imagine lots of kids running around that place. _So maybe that was Videl Satan...?_

Chaotzu piped up. "I hope she doesn't take after her father. If so, poor girl."

"Nah, she looks nothing like Mr. Satan," Master Roshi said. "She's actually cute for a twelve-year-old..." Everyone narrowed their eyes at the old hermit with disapproval. ''Oh, come on! I meant kiddie cute, not beautiful in an adult kind of way-" everyone's eyes went narrower.

"You guys have such low opinion of me," the old man pouted.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Videl waited at the nurses' station, a gift tucked on arm. It was already afternoon when she and Hercule arrived at the Orange Star Memorial Hospital, but she knew it couldn't be helped. Her father has a speaking engagement at the city chamber of commerce, and then a meeting with the mayor, something about updating the name of the city?

She knew they really shouldn't use their celebrity status to get perks, but she's glad the hospital staff are usually lenient with them when it come to visiting hours. Because if it was only up to her, she would've moved in to the hospital so that she can take care of her mom 24/7.

The black-haired girl walked to a familiar face. "Hi Nurse Judy!"

"Videl!" The matronly woman cried warmly, giving the girl a tight hug.

"I saw you just the other day in the TV during the tournament. A panel interview, I think. Young lady, you were like a fresh breeze compared to those stuffy old men!"

She laughed and squeezed the older woman back with equal affection. "Thanks, Nurse Judy. I was just the replacement. Dad was supposed to be in that panel.

"By the way, umm," the girl said with some hesitation. "How was she last week?"

The nurse frowned. "She was fine."

Nurse Judy was practically a second mother, not just to her but to her parents too. The Satan family was born and bred in Orange Star City, and almost everyone in the family was born in this same hospital. Nurse Judy had even been there to assist Videl's birth. The girl knew the elderly woman just want to shield her from more heartache.

"Please, Mama Jud, I want to know," she asked, falling to using the family friend's pet name.

"Okay, okay," Nurse Judy sighed deeply.

"Not so good, girlie. She was in so much pain and fatigue. She wouldn't eat anything." The matron smiled a little. "But she did perk up since the tournament ended the other day. She felt well since then."

The girl brightened somewhat. "Ah, that's good news. It's just probably the chemotherapy that was making her feel terrible last week. Since that's over, it's just a matter of time until she's cured. I mean, lots of people with cancer goes in remission, right?"

"Could be," the nurse hedged.

"I'll take that. Besides, there she is. And she does look well," Videl said, grinning and waving at a lady in a wheelchair. Hercule was behind her, a cheerful smile on his face as he pushed the chair.

"Mom," the girl hugged her mother. Petite, clear blue eyes, a pretty face, and a forceful personality - no denying it, Videl is a carbon copy of her mother.

"My gosh, Videl, you're so skinny!" Mrs. Miguel Satan admonished her daughter. "You're not eating enough, is that it?"

She turned around to her husband, annoyed. "Mark! Why is our daughter so thin? She's practically just skin and bones!"

The pre-teen rolled her eyes while her dad laughed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"Aww, don't be like that, honey. Of course, I'm taking care of our sweetie pie. It's just... umm, ah! It's just that our daughter eats too much junk food. Hahaha..."

 _What on earth?!_ the girl thought, her eyebrows raised, and indignant at her father's lie. Hidden behind Miguel, Hercule pressed his palms together, silently begging his daughter to help him. Considering he'd been too busy to cook and Videl didn't know how, they've been subsiding on take outs and fast food for months. Meaning, her dad's the one who's supposed to be in trouble. Videl exhaled in annoyance. _Geez! Fine, fine..._

"Yes mom, that's true. I'm sorry," she said, bowing so that her mother wouldn't see her roll her eyes again.

Miguel narrowed her eyes. she turned around to look at her husband again, but the champ quickly schooled his face into a picture of innocence. "Are you two trying to hide something?" the woman said suspiciously.

"No, of course not, honey," Hercule vigorously denied. He cleared his throat. The topic needs to be changed, stat. "But anyway, we bought you a souvenir from the Battle Archipelago."

Videl placed the box she'd been carrying on her mother's lap, who then opened it up and gasped. Taking out the softest silk scarf she had ever felt, Miguel exclaimed. "Wow!"

The girl grinned. "Glad you like it. When we saw it, we knew we just have to get it. After all, roses are your favorites."

"Thank you, this is beautiful," her mother said, smoothing out the cloth and admiring the beautiful roses print motif.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"'I stole this for you. Get well soon, or I'll kick your ass.' Huh, no name," Yamcha mused after reading the card attached to a single red rose. He turned the piece of paper to reconfirm that it was really sent for Krillin.

"Hey man, is it really that hard to believe that someone would send me flowers?" the bald fighter said, quite annoyed but furiously blushing at the same time.

Bulma smirked. "So, you're not going to tell us who sent you the rose, hmm?"

Krillin just kept twiddling his finger, his face gone full red.

"Probably that new girlfriend of his. I'm telling you, the dude goes to the mainland practically everyday," Oolong observed.

"Sheesh, you guys are a bunch of gossips," the short man muttered.

Gohan snapped his fingers. "Oh, I know! It's probably that android you were crushing on. You know, the blo- Ooff!"

The boy found himself with a pillow thrown to his face. And since these are people with superhuman strength, it hit the half-saiyan like a missile on full-speed.

"Shut up, kid!"

"Sorry!"

"Oh, my poor Gohan... hey, what's the big idea?!"

"It was Android Eighteen? No way!"

"Are you crazy? She's going to kill you!"

"Eighteen and Krillin, huh. How cute!"

Tien stretched and stood up. As much as he regards these people as friends, he had enough socializing for today. "I think Chaotzu and I ought to be going now. Let's go," he called the white-faced boy, who nodded back.

"Wait a minute, Tien." Master Roshi approached the tall warrior. The old teacher looked serious all of a sudden. He whispered, "Let's talk outside."

The stern-faced warrior raised an eyebrow but said, "Okay."


End file.
